


Finding Irmo.

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Lorien - Freeform, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Galadriel has a vision in the Gardens of Lórienfor Namotober2020
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Finding Irmo.

It was a small pool on the edge of a long, low cliff. Galadriel had wandered for hours amidst the splendour, every turn revealing a new wonder. Trees that were beautiful in themselves, set against other lovely trees, or a fountain, or a mossy lawn, or banks of delicate flowers, with narrow paths winding through, sometimes leading to nowhere but another charming scene.

Birds were everywhere, nesting in the cliff, coming and going with food for their young, or swooping down to the edge of the pool to drink and bathe. The water was so clear that Galadriel could see the tumbling grains of sand disturbed by the upwelling spring that filled the pool, until it seeped away into the ground to burst forth as a waterfall on the face of the cliff.   
The surface of the pool was thick with long oval leaves, dropping from the tall trees, whose kind was unknown to her, their green turned to gold as Yavanna called the harvest home. Galadriel smiled, her tired irritation rising from her and leaving her calm again. She sat by the pool, directing her breath, until the sinews loosened in her neck, twisting her shoulders to ease the strain.   
The air was fresh and sweet, no smoke of fire nor fume of furnace fouled the clear air of Lórien, and she wondered again at the supposed wisdom of her Noldor kin. At such times, she felt far more than half-Teleri. She let her mind drift into the past, floating like a fallen leaf on the deep waters of time...

With a start she shook herself fully awake, then rose to her feet and looked about her; all was as before, the birds chirped and called, the trees rustled in the gentle wind, the water... The reflections of the leaves had changed, gone were the golden ovals of the leaves themselves, and for each leaf, deep in the changed water was the reflection of a mighty ship, of a kind unknown to her, with great sails of red and gold. They filled the pool; as the leaves moved in the soft breath of the wind, so the vast fleet of strange ships sailed hither and yon. But stranger far was the sky, no longer the soft nacre of Light, but a hard blue, like the petals of a flower, or the eyes of her grandfather Olwë. 

Galadriel knew that this was no dream but a vision, and she sang "Wonder" until through the trees came Olórin, smiling calmly.  
"Fair Galadriel! What wonders would you show forth?"  
But Galadriel merely gestured to the water, and Olórin, even Olórin, wisest and most serene of Maia, sucked in his breath.  
"What have you done?" he said.  
"I? I have done nothing, I was resting by this pool, thinking of the past by the shores of Belegaer, and this..."   
They looked long at the ships, there was menace in them, not the grace of the fair Teleri ships, but a bristling, stolid threat, that filled them both with unease. But the day was bright around them, the birds untroubled, the sweet air carried the scents of myriad blooms, and all was well on Lórien.   
  
After a moment, or an hour, in the strange timelessness of the Garden, Olórin stood up straight and smiled at Galadriel, and laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned to follow his eyes and felt the presence of another, though nothing could be seen. But petals blown in the wind began to gather in the air, collected by an unseen form, as snow whitens the garments of those who face the blizzard.   
Irmo himself had come! His form was merely hinted at by the shadowing of bright petals, yet she knew his gaze was fixed upon her, and felt the change when his attention turned to the water.

Galadriel struggled to hold the moment in memory, but too much was happening. The vision, Olórin!, and now Irmo himself, it was overwhelming! So far from the peace she had sought...   
But Irmo was singing, like wind in the petals, or the sound of fern uncurling, or the fall of feathers. Galadriel felt a lightening of her spirit, as though she had been clouded water which was now clear. The song had no words, or none that she could discern, yet she felt the meaning, and knew what Irmo would say to her.  
  
And suddenly the song was ended, the petals swirled through empty air and Galadriel the Elf stood alone with Olórin the Maia.

"What ships are these?" she asked him.  
"I do not know. But Irmo, as you have heard, knows this to be a true vision. And you, my lady, have such deep affinity with the water that it may be you should seek counsel on this, for who can say what more might be seen by such a one?  
For myself, though the ships are disturbing, like Irmo, it is the great change in the sky which fills me with foreboding..."


End file.
